


In the Fairy-Queen's Court

by jakia



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakia/pseuds/jakia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>fairy!Kurt.  Kurt is a fairy who can shapeshift and has magic and is sort of in love with Blaine.  Blaine is a human who is sort of in love with Kurt.  Brittany is Kurt’s wife, and also the queen of the fairies.  Later, Santana gets involved, and things get complicated.</p><p>(or, The human Blaine meets the fairy Kurt in a spring while bathing, and changes his life forever.  As far as awkward first meetings go, it could be a lot worse.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Blaine  _hates_ Cooper, in the way he suspects most little brothers hate their older brothers, only more so because Cooper is  _actually_ the worst: who shoves their brother in the mud like that? They can barely afford clothes to begin with—why does Cooper have to ruin every nice thing Blaine owns?  When he was little it was his toys, now it’s his clothes, Blaine cannot have anything of his own that Cooper doesn’t eventually destroy or steal.  Thank God he didn’t have any interest in girls, or Cooper would probably figure out a way to ruin that for him, too.  
  
He’s naked and wading in the stream, scrubbing at his clothes while simultaneously scrubbing at his body before he realizes he’s not alone in the water.  
  
It’s a  _fairy_.  
  
He’s never seen one before.  To be completely honest, he didn’t know for sure if they were actually real, or just a made-up wives’ tale, same as mermen or dragons.  
  
The boy (and it  _is_ a boy, long and lean, not particularly bearded but for a small trail of dark hair right above his cock, and  _god_ , Blaine has never seen anything more beautiful in all his life) is real, though Blaine can scarcely believe his eyes.  He  _looks_ human, except for the shape of his ears, slightly pointed, and the color of his eyes ( _so_  blue—did that color even exist, really?), and his wings—translucent, like beams of sunlight, but blue and fragile-looking, like if Blaine touched them too hard they would break.  
  
He’s so in awe of the boy in front of him that it takes him a moment to realize that the boy is staring back at him just as intently.  He’s so shocked that he fumbles backwards into the water, landing on his ass and generally making a fool out of himself.  
  
The fairy-boy giggles.  
  
Blaine flushes, grabs his (now significantly less mud-ridden) clothes and covers himself, his face beet-red as he struggles to cover his privates.  The fairy has no similar modesty, or if he does, he doesn’t in front of humans.  “I’m—I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize anyone else was here, I’ll just—”  
  
“You’re  _human_.” The fairy speaks, finally, with a tone of wonder about his voice, like  _Blaine_ _’s_ the unnatural thing to be found in a spring.  His voice is higher than expected, soft like a girl’s, but pleasant and almost lyrical.  Blaine wonders if he sings.  “We’re told humans are terrible creatures, huge and ugly, like grotesque giants who destroy everything they touch with their clumsiness, but  _you—_ ” he bends his head slightly, studying Blaine’s body, and Blaine’s very, very grateful for the shirt he’s holding right now.  “—you’re  _lovely_.”  
  
“I—Thank you.”  He blushes again, his cheeks rosy and bright.  He looks up at the fairy shyly as he stands, holding out his hand for the fairy to shake.  “My name is Blaine.”  
  
The fairy stares at his hand, confused.  “…Kurt.”  
  
The silence is awkward for a moment as Blaine keeps his hand out for Kurt to shake, until finally Kurt fumbles, takes Blaine’s hand, and kisses it like he would a maiden’s.  Blaine blushes, but doesn’t correct him:  maybe that’s how they shake hands in the fairy kingdom.  Besides, Kurt’s lips feel nice against his skin, in a way that makes him shiver.  
  
“You’re small for a human.” Kurt observes coyly, batting his eyelashes as he steps closer to Blaine.  “Or maybe I’m just not used to be so big.”    
  
“Are you not normally big?” He breathes, because Kurt is—not enormous but slightly taller than Blaine, and it’s hard to imagine him as anything smaller.  
  
Kurt blinks at him.  “No.  No, most of the time I’m very small, like,” He scrunches his nose, and suddenly Blaine’s not looking at a boy at all, but a very tiny winged creature.  If Blaine didn’t know better, he would have thought he was looking at a bug instead of a Kurt.  “this.”  
  
Magic blossoms in the air, and soon Kurt is in front of him again, full-size and just as beautiful.  “See?” He grins.  
  
“If you’re normally small, why’d you make yourself big then?”  
  
His smile fades lightly, as does some of the light in his eyes.  “Because I needed to remind myself that I can be bigger than my problems.”  
  
Blaine cocks his head to the side.  “What kind of problems does a fairy have?  Don’t you have magic to deal with your problems?”  
  
Kurt rolls his eyes.  “Oh yes, magic fixes everything.  I’ve never heard of  _anyone_ having problems that couldn’t be solved with magic.” He grins before bending over, splashing water at Blaine playfully.  “What sort of problems does a mud-covered human have, hmm?  Anything magic might fix?”

Blaine gasps with laughter, stunned by the sudden splash of water against his skin.  He retaliates by splashing back at him, grinning at the way Kurt shrieks and jumps away from the waves.  “An egotistical older brother who thinks too highly of himself,” he tells Kurt, chasing after him and splashing him with waves.  “You could turn him into a bug! That would fix everything!”

But Kurt is no shy maiden who needs to be chased all day long: he bides his time, waits, and when the moment is right he  _pounces_ , tackles Blaine and dunks him underneath the water.

He brings his head back up to the surface and gasps, savoring the air he breathes and wiping his hair from his face.  Kurt laughs at him, and  _gods_ , he’s beautiful.  He smells like spring and boy, everything Blaine loves wrapped in a lithe package begging to be kissed.  Blaine’s quite sure he has never  _wanted_ anything more in his life—wants to touch him, wants to kiss him, wants to press his body against Kurt’s until they are both gasping and begging for more, but he doesn’t know _how._ He’s never kissed a boy before, never touched one either, unless you count his own sinful flesh, so he doesn’t know how.  He wants to be sweet, yeah, but mostly he just wants to  _touch._

Kurt, for his part, swims closer to him, either oblivious to Blaine’s growing affection or willing to encourage it.  “So I should fix your problems, then?” He bats his eyelashes at Blaine. “Why? No one ever tries to fix  _my_ problems—why should I fix yours?”

Blaine tries not the count the freckles sprinkled across Kurt’s nose, and reminds himself to breathe.  “I don’t even know what your problems are.”

Kurt swims a little closer, until his and Blaine’s noses are almost touching.  “Winter is coming.  I don’t know if my people will have enough food to last the winter.  The Fairy Court wants my wife and I to have a baby, to try and give the people hope, but I’m scared.”

“You’re married?” He whispers softly, and he wills his heart to stop breaking in his chest.  Of course he is.  Of course someone as beautiful and radiant as Kurt is already taken.  Like Blaine could have ever really stood a chance.

Then Kurt kisses him, and Blaine’s heart is lost for good.

At first he doesn’t realize what’s happening: he just freezes, his body in shock, but it doesn’t take him long to respond.  He opens his mouth, tries to capture Kurt’s lips with his own.  He’s been kissed before, girls from neighboring farms who thought he was handsome, but never like this, never this intoxicating and consuming, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of he’s kissing a fairy, or because he’s kissing a  _boy._  

(Or maybe it’s just  _Kurt_ that makes Blaine’s head spin, his beauty and his laughter and his smile that drives Blaine crazy like a man with an addiction. He wouldn’t put it past him.)

Kurt moans against him, greedily sucking on Blaine’s bottom lip, his hands exploring the breadth of Blaine’s shoulders.  In a few seconds, the fact that they’re naked and wet and touching is going to get either very awkward or very awesome, so Blaine pulls away from him slowly.

Kurt is  _glowing._

It’s a subtle thing, and if Blaine hadn’t spent the better part of the past hour playing and teasing and studying Kurt’s body, he would have never noticed it.  But there it is—a  _light_  etched inside of his skin, soft and bright and warm, supernatural and inviting in a way that just makes him want to  _touch_ him more.

“Wha—“

But he doesn’t get to finish, because Kurt is kissing him again.  He doesn’t mind, because kissing Kurt will always be better than wondering why his skin is glowing, especially once he starts doing that thing with his tongue.

Blaine’s hands have just begun to trail along Kurt’s wings ( _so_ soft—softer than feathers even, what were they made out of—?), his lips sucking greedily into Kurt’s jaw when he hears someone calling his name.

“Blaine? Blaine!  Where’re you at? Come on, Squirt, you aren’t still mad at me, are you?”

And then Kurt is  _gone_ , vanished into thin air, as immaterial as a  _dream_ , and if it weren’t for the bruise on his neck and the slight tingling buzz still lingering on his lips, he would wonder if Kurt wasn’t just something he made up in his head.

—


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt flies home as fast as he can, trying to ignore the light buzz on his lips as he dodges tree limbs and broken branches.  Oh spirits, he just kissed a human.

Oh spirits, he  _made out_ with a human  _boy_ , named Blaine, and he  _liked_ it.  He really, really liked it.

He cheated on his wife.  He’d feel worse about that if he actually loved her, or if she didn’t have three concubines of her own that she frequented often.  Their marriage was entirely political—they didn’t share a bed half the time, and when they did they usually only cuddled.  The one and only time they ever copulated their marriage he’d been mostly drunk on nectar and she had done most of the work. 

He didn’t even  _like_  girls: he made no secret about it toBrittany before they married, but she told him she didn’t mind.   To be completely honest, they wouldn’t even be married if she didn’t need his father’s political influence.  And it wasn’t like there were any fairy boys who were lining up to court Kurt, either—any who did were only interested in Kurt’s father’s influence, and not Kurt himself.  Besides, none of them were really Kurt’s type, which was why he hadn’t minded marrying Brittany.

Apparently, Kurt’s type was tiny dark-haired  _human_ , and the thought almost made him sick to his stomach.  He hadn’t been lying when he said most fairies avoided humans—they were clumsy and brutish, grotesque and destructive.  They had no respect for nature and even less respect for things they couldn’t see, which more often than not were the fairies themselves.  The only fairy Kurt knew of who had met a human (besides himself now) was Brittany, and she had described it as an “alien abduction,” which Kurt didn’t know what that was but it didn’t sound pleasant.

But Blaine wasn’t like that.  He had been— _sweet_.  He was clumsy, yeah, but he was also kind, and listened to Kurt’s problems, and played with him.

Humans weren’t supposed to be playful.  Humans were supposed to be awful.  But Blaine wasn’t awful—Blaine was  _wonderful_. Blaine made him smile. Blaine made him laugh.

Blaine made him  _glow_ , and that was a problem. 

Glowing, of course, being the fairy’s body’s way of saying “Hey! Baby-making! That’s a good idea!  Let’s do that! Right now!”  Unlike other adolescent changes, it varied from fairy to fairy for when they actually began to glow—for some it started in puberty and continued every time they were aroused: for others, it had to be the right person, the right time, the right place.

Kurt had never glowed before, until—until Blaine.  And that  _scared_  him.

He’s so lost in his own train of thought that he doesn’t notice he’s home until he flies straight into his father.

“Slow down, Buddy!  Watch where you’re flying!” Burt laughs, grabbing his son like he was still a light, small thing.  Kurt’s wings flutter nervously in his father’s arms.

“Sorry, Dad, sorry.   I’m just—-distracted.”  He says, untangling himself.

His father—with a wide belly and a kind smile—softens.  “Worried about the winter?”

No.  He  _ought_  to be worried about the upcoming winter frost, though, and so he nods, because he  _can’t_ tell his father about Blaine, he  _can’t._   “Yes,” he says instead, because it’s a much easier answer.  “We don’t have enough food in storage to feed everyone.  And our magic isn’t working right, things won’t—they won’t  _grow_ like they should.  And I don’t know  _why._ ”

His father rests his hand on his shoulder, gentle, firm, and comforting all at once.  “You’ll figure it out.  You always do.”

He blushes.  “Dad, I killed everything I touched with magic until I was thirteen.”

“Eh, so you were a slow learner.  You figured it out eventually though, didn’t you? And now you’re King.  A  _good_  king, too.” His father tells him fondly, pride radiating through his voice.  “How’s Brittany?”

He shrugs.  “Oh, she’s Brittany.  I’m sure she’s good.”

“…You haven’t seen her?”

“Not yet.  I’m sure I’ll see her at supper, though.  She’s been busy doing Queen stuff.  Or maybe trying to cure Lord Tubbington of his nectar addiction, I’m not sure.”

“The caterpillar?” His dad says in disbelief before shaking his head, like he ought to know better.  “And—how are you two?  Really?”

He shrugs.  “We’re—-we are.”

“You didn’t have to marry her.” His father blurts out quickly.  “I know you felt a lot of pressure from everybody to do so, but I wouldn’t have made you.  I  _never_ would have made you do something you didn’t want to.”

Kurt smiles sadly; he loves his father, truly, much as he may hate the way his life has turned out up to this point.  His father has only ever done what he can to make him happy and keep him safe: he can never fault him for that.  “I know.  But I still married her, didn’t I?”

His father squeezes his shoulder.  “You did.  I just—I just want you to be happy.  And I don’t know if you’re happy right now.”

“I’m happy enough.” He pats his dad’s hand lovingly, because he is. He’s confused, and worried, and scared, but he’s happy enough.  “I’ll see you at supper?”

“Yeah.” His dad says, letting go of his shoulder.  “Take care, Kurt.”

His father is almost out of Kurt’s sight before he thinks to turn around and ask him.  If anyone would answer Kurt and not—not  _mock_ him, it would be his dad.

“Hey Dad?”

His dad stops, and turns, walks back towards him.  “Yeah Buddy?”

“When did you—I mean, I know this is personal and kind of awkward but I mean—at what age—when did you—“

“ _Kurt._ ” His father stops him mid-ramble.  “Spit it out.  I promise, nothing is too embarrassing.  Ask.”

He blushes, but does his best to swallow his fear.  He wills his wings to stop _twitching._ “When did you— _glow_  for the first time?”

There’s such a look of  _hope_ on his father’s face that for a moment Kurt feels like the worst son in the world for even asking:  _he must think I’m talking about Brittany.  Oh God._ But then it fades, and his father just smiles at him warmly.  “When I kissed your mother for the first time.”

Oh.  So just like when  _he_  kissed  _Blaine_ _._   Fantastic.  “Oh.  Okay.  I—thank you.”

His father raises an eyebrow.  “Is everything oka—“

“Yes.”

“Do you have any more que—“

“Absolutely not.”

His father  _stares_ at him for another minute or two.  “Kurt.  Is there anything you want to tell me?”

He hopes he’s not blushing.  He  _prays_  he’s not blushing.  He’s  _probably_ blushing.  “No.  Not—not yet.  No.”

“Okay.” His father says quietly.  “Because you can, you know.  Tell me anything.  I won’t judge or anything.”

“I know, Dad.  I’m fine.”

“Okay then.  Well.” He pats him fondly on the shoulder.  “I’ll see you at supper, then.”

He nods furiously.  “Right see you then!”

He backs into his room, slams the door, and wishes the trees would do him a favor and swallow him whole.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kink warnings: ~masturbation~, voyeurism, light comeplay, handporn? Handporn.

Blaine goes back to the spring every single day, but Kurt’s never there.  It’s like he vanished into thin air, and Blaine has no idea if he’ll ever see him again.  He hopes he does.  He doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself if he never sees Kurt again.  
  
Cooper knows he’s still mad at him, but over what, he can’t figure out.  Which is good, because Blaine will never tell him if he can help it.  Still, Cooper knows he’s mad, even if he doesn’t know why, which is why he’s been so good at giving him his space.  He’s been taking on some of Blaine’s chores around the farm, which means Blaine has time to sneak away and look for Kurt without their parents noticing.  
  
(Not that they  _would_  notice.  Mr. Anderson cares about little else other than the farm and how much money they can make off of it, and Mrs. Anderson only cares about making her husband happy.  Cooper and Blaine, as always, are only afterthoughts.)   
  
It’s on the third day after Kurt kissed him when Blaine finally sees him again, just when he was about to give up hope.    
  
His first instinct is to run at him, to jump into his arms and kiss him senseless, but he hesitates.  It looks like Kurt is bathing in the stream, and while that was indeed how they met, it seems rude now to interrupt him.  
  
Only, when he looks closer (he cannot help it, Kurt is beautiful and he has missed him so much, he needs to remember what he looks like) it doesn’t look like Kurt is bathing so much as he is just resting in the water, letting the waves wash gently across his body as he lazily strokes at his cock.  
  
Blaine freezes.  
  
He’s touching himself.  Pleasuring himself, like what Blaine does at night with his doors closed while everyone else is asleep.  Blaine watches with wide eyes as his thumb swirls along the head of his cock and gods, if Blaine could be that hand right now—  
  
If he were a good man, he would leave.  Turn his back, give Kurt time and privacy to finish (but not far enough away to vanish, no, never again—) before approaching him.  They would talk quietly together, and if Blaine were lucky, they would kiss again, and Blaine would act like he had never seen him pleasuring himself.  
  
But Blaine’s not a good man.  Can you blame him?  Kurt is gorgeous, and when he’s like this—his wings fluttering lightly in time with his strokes, his skin pale like ice compared to the red flush of his cock, his breathing frantic and erratic as he brings himself closer to orgasm.    
  
“Blaine,” he breathes out, and Blaine has to stop himself from coming in his pantsimmediately because this is the hottest thing he has ever seen in his life.  Is he thinking about—?  He bites his lip and throws his hand into his pants, fumbling to get his cock out.  He doesn’t care that he’s in the middle of the woods, where anyone could see him—he has to have some relief, this is killing him.  He slips his pants off and slides down against a tree, his ass in the grass for some small measure of privacy and comfort but where he can still see Kurt and every little move he makes.  
  
“Blaine,” Kurt moans again, throwing his head back as Blaine pumps at his cock.  Hearing his name like that from Kurt’s sinfully pink lips, complete with visuals (Kurt, wet and vivid and stroking his own cock, thinking about him, gods, how does that make it even better?) is the single most erotic thing he’s ever experienced in his life.  It’s better than anything his imagination could have come up—and his imagination has spent the past three days coming up with some pretty amazing things, but this outbeats them all.  
  
A part of him wants to close his eyes and remember how Kurt’s skin feels against his own, soft and light but with an understated hardness that comes from being aboy, and gods, Blaine loves Kurt’s boyishness.  But he can’t bear to tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him—especially not now that Kurt looks so close, precome leaking from the tip of his cock.    
  
He whimpers, and wonders what it would be like to taste him.  To take Kurt into his mouth, to lick and suck on him.  He’s never pleasured another man with his mouth before but he—he thinks he would like it.  He’d like the weight of it on his tongue, and the feel of it pushing against the back of his throat.  And the smell—with Kurt that close it would be all he could smell, would be all he could think about.  
  
His orgasm hits him powerfully, blinding him and debilitating him all at once.  He’s breathless and lost to the world for the first few minutes after, his eyes closed and his head collapsed into a pillow of fallen leaves.  
  
When he opens his eyes again, Kurt is standing over him, staring at him intently.  
  
He’s dressed, for once, more so than Blaine this time, and this is the first time Blaine has seen him with clothes on.  His tunic is nicely made, spun out of flowers and fine threads of silver, looking both completely natural and yet finely made.  He would not look out of place in a king’s courtroom, Blaine imagines, but he doesn’t look out of place in the woods, either.  It’s a fine balance, but he manages it well.  There is a circlet carved from silvenwood resting on his head, with glass flowers and intricate leaves carved into the wood adding to the design.   
  
He looks like a prince out of a fairy tale.  
  
He also looks nervous, and swallows before he finally speaks.  
  
“How—how long—?”  
  
“Long enough.” Blaine says quickly, because he knows there’s no getting out of this.  His pants are around ankles and there is drying come on his hands and stomach.  He knows what it looks like, because that’s exactly what happened.  
  
If Kurt turned him into a frog right now, Blaine wouldn’t blame him in the slightest.  He would have deserved it.  
  
He doesn’t.  Instead, he looks down at Blaine’s stomach and then quickly back at his face, like he’s trying desperately to look at anything but his cock.  “Be—because of me?”  He says, like that was so unimaginable for him that he couldn’t possible picture anyone Kurt while touching themselves.  
  
“Yes,” he says, staring back at him intently. “You’re beautiful.”  
  
He’s not trying to flatter him—he just thinks he needs to know.  Kurt is beautiful, the same way the sky is blue and grass is green, it’s a universal truth and him notknowing just breaks Blaine’s heart a little, because how could he not?  
  
Kurt’s face turns pink as he looks towards his feet, and, okay, Blaine thinks, he’s going to turn me into a frog now.  Well, maybe not a frog.  Maybe a butterfly.  Blaine hopes he gets turned into a butterfly.  He’d be an awesome butterfly.   
  
Instead, Kurt kneels, and takes Blaine’s come-covered hand into his own, and—  
  
Oh.  
  
He licks the come off of Blaine’s fingers, and if it were physically possible for Blaine to get hard again so soon he would be instantly, because nothing has ever felt as good as this.  Nothing.  
  
Kurt cleans his hand effectively, running his tongue in between the creases between his fingers.  He licks a stripe down his palm and Blaine’s cock hurts from the blood trying to rush back down there, too much too soon.  
  
“You humans taste different from fairies.” Kurt whispers as he sucks on Blaine’s pinky, and arousal shoots down his spine.    
  
“W-what do f-f-fairies t-taste l-like?” Blaine gasps as Kurt nibbles down along where the edge of his palm meets his wrist, cleaning the small splashes that ended up there.  
  
“Hmm.  Sweeter,” Kurt kisses back up his palm, his tongue tracing circles against the flesh there.  “You humans taste saltier, more bitter.  We’re—sweet, like nectar with an aftertaste.”  He blushes, then pushes his mouth away from Blaine’s hand.  “Well, I am.  I’ve—I’ve never tasted another fairy.”  
  
Could have fooled Blaine.  “Me either,” he smiles warmly, setting his hand back down in the grass beside him, pushing himself up so he can be closer to Kurt.  “Well, tasted another human, I mean.  Not that I’ve tasted another fairy, either, but—”  
  
Kurt smiles at his fumbling attempts..  “I like how you taste.” He whispers, his cheeks turning pink again, like he’s not sure he should actually say this out loud, but.  “I wasn’t sure I would, because humans are so different from fairies, but—”  
  
“Can I kiss you?” Blaine blurts out, and normally he’d feel bad for interrupting him but he can’t help it: he’s wanted to kiss Kurt again for three days, and he doesn’t want to miss his chance to do so again.  
  
Kurt blinks at him, surprised, but then he nods and smiles at him softly.  
  
He leans forwards, rests his hand on Kurt’s jaw, and kisses him.    
  
He’s surprised that the first thing he notices is the aftertaste of his own come in Kurt’s mouth.  It’s not something he’s ever thought about before, and it sends another sharp spike of arousal through his body.  Kurt tastes like him, but also like himself, like the two of them together, and it’s the best thing he could imagine.    
  
Kurt pulls away from him slowly, and looks towards the sun.  “It’s getting late.  The sun’s almost setting.  I have to go.  They’ll—-they’ll notice if I’m not there.”  
  
It breaks Blaine’s heart to hear that.  “No,” he whines, and he knows he sounds a bit like a child but he can’t help it, he only barely kissed him.  “Please, I—when will I see you again?”  
  
“You want to see me again?”  
  
“Of course!” Blaine laughs, because how could Kurt  _not_  know how much Blaine wants him, always?  He runs his hand across Kurt’s jaw.  “I always want to see you.”   
  
Kurt blushes, but places his hand on top of Blaine’s, keeping him close to him.  “Where do you live, exactly? I’m assuming not in the spring—”  
  
“On a nearby farm,” Blaine tells him quickly, his heart beating fast in his chest.  He points west, in the direction he came from.  “Past a large oak tree—”  
  
“I think I know what you’re talking about.  It’s right where the road splits, yeah?”  
  
“Exactly!” Blaine beams.  “Take the left road, and our farm is just past the hill.   You can’t miss it.” And then, because he can.  “My room is the second window in the back.  Will you—will you come see me?  When—when you can?”  
  
Kurt takes his hand, and places it against his own heart, so that Blaine can feel that Kurt’s heart is beating just as quickly.  “If I come to your room tonight, after dark when everyone is sleeping, will your window be open?  Will you—invite me in?”  
  
Kurt could be a fearsome dragon with scales that could breathe fire and was planning to eat him, and Blaine would still want to invite him in.    
  
“Of course.” He says, and then opens his arms for Kurt to throw himself into them.  
  
“I will see you tonight, then.” Kurt smiles against his ear, then he shrinks and he’s gone, like firelight.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Brittana chapter this time because I couldn’t figure out who I wanted to top first for the Klaine smut that’ll happen next time. It’ll happen both ways eventually, I just can’t make my mind up. You can vote in my ask box if you have strong feelings either way.
> 
> (Also I am seriously overwhelmed by the amount of love this fic is getting. <3 <3 <3 It’s kind of amazing. Seriously, thank you! )
> 
> Summary: In this section, Kurt’s got this. So does Brittany, until she doesn’t. Santana is a good person sometimes, and to the surprise of absolutely no one, Blaine’s dad is kind of a dick.
> 
> Warnings: Brittana-heavy chapter, Brittany’s train of thought, reference to rape, innuendos

* * *

 

  
The Fairy Council didn’t actually have any official power: they were just the elders of the village, fairies older and supposedly wiser who were suppose to advise the King and Queen.  In reality, they thought too much of themselves and often thought they knew better than the Queen, though they really, really didn’t.    
  
For Brittany’s reign, the council consisted of Will Schuester and his wife Emma, David Martinez, Al Motta, Holly Holiday, Sue Sylvester, and Burt Hummel.  A few Brittany wanted to get rid of (and she never understood why she couldn’t: wasn’t she the Queen? Didn’t everyone have to do whatever she said?  But apparently it didn’t work like that, because she’s tried to fire Will seven times now but he keeps coming back.) but a lot of them were quite nice.    
  
It just that they talked so much, and really loudly and angrily, and she’d rather make out with Sugar instead.  Or be touching Emma’s boobs.  They look like they’d be soft and nice to cuddle with.  
  
But instead, she’s listening to them whine about something or another during what was supposed to be a nice and quiet private dinner, but because Kurt missed their council meeting this afternoon they decided they needed to have itright now instead.  
  
“—because you don’t have children.  The spirits are angry, and they’re taking it out on all of us because of it!  If you would just do your duty our crops would grow and we wouldn’t have to worry about this!” Will yells at Kurt, and Brittany blinks.  
  
Well, that’s rude.  It’s not Kurt’s fault they don’t have a baby.  She’s asked the stork for one several times now—they just haven’t gotten here yet.  
  
“Watch it, Schuester—” Kurt’s father roars like a lion, his dark blue wings twitching angrily.  “That’s my son and your king you’re talking to.  Show some respect!”  
  
Kurt doesn’t yell: Kurt sips his tea softly, lost slightly in his own little world.  Brittany knows what that’s like—she does it all the time.  
  
Emma coughs nervously.  “William, dear, maybe the King and Queen just need a little more time—”  
  
“If I may,” Kurt speaks, finally, setting teacup down gently.  “But you and Councilwoman Emma here also don’t have children, and you’ve been married a lot longer than Brittany and I have.”  
  
William freezes, his face red with embarrassment.  Somebody—Brittany thinks maybe Holly or David—snicker at him.  “I don’t—”  
  
“Furthermore,” Kurt continues, standing as he does so.  “I did a little research, and it turns out Brittany and I aren’t the first royal couple to not have children.  In fact, her Great Aunt Phoebe never even married, and from what I can tell the spirits never made their crops fail.  So I highly doubt the spirits are punishing Brittany and I for not having kids yet when we’ve only been married a year, if they even care about that at all.”  
  
“But—”  
  
“And,” Kurt glares at William, making him shrink back into his seat.  “I’m not going to let my people starve because of some misguided superstition.  We’ll find food another way if we cannot grow it.  This meeting is over.” He holds his hand out to Brittany, helping her out of her chair.  
  
She whistles at him once they’re out of the dining room.  “That was hot.”  
  
“Thanks.” He blushes, and suddenly he is her Kurt again: the shy, quiet little boy who was so much smaller than all the other boys around her, but had soft hands and cried when things—even small and insignificant—died.  It was why she married him and knew he would be a good king: he cared.   “I’ve been trying not to let them get to me so much.”  
  
“I’ve noticed.  You’ve been confident and stuff.  It’s super sexy.”  She sniffs him, and notices the sudden whiff of other, something not quite Kurt against his skin.  It’s subtle, and if she weren’t the Queen and therefore more awesome and powerful than all the other fairies, she probably wouldn’t even notice it, but it’s there.  Kurt’s been touching someone, someone’s who’s a boy and who’s left their scent against his skin, and isn’t  _that_  exciting?   
  
“Did you meet another unicorn?” She asks, her pink wings fluttering with excitement.  She hopes Kurt met another unicorn.  He’s been the only one for so long now, and when they were young it made him sad and lonely.  Now he’s still sad and lonely, but he seems less so in the past couple of days. “Is he cute? Is his horn big?  Does he let you ride him?”  
  
Kurt stops and stares at her.  “I—what?”  
  
“You know!” She giggles.  “A unicorn!  Like you!”  
  
He blinks.  “He’s not like me.  He’s a—he’s not like me.  And he doesn’t exist.  And isn’t real, so I’m going to stop talking like he’s a person who exists because he absolutely does not exist.  Goodnight.”  
  
He flies into their bedroom and slams the door behind him, and she just giggles and follows him.  It’s their bedroom, even though he’s the only one who uses it most days.  Like anyone’s going to care.  
  
He already has his shirt off when she wanders into the room.  “Brittany!” He shrieks, embarrassed and covering himself.    
  
“Come on! I’m your wife!  I’ve seen you naked.  Now tell me about your fairy boy!” She laughs when he tosses the shirt at her face and grabs a clean one.    
  
“He doesn’t exist.”  
  
“Does he belong to a different village? That’s okay, you know? You can bring him here!  He can be your concubine.  I have three and nobody cares.  It’d be totally cool.” She gasps as the idea hits her.  “You can have babies with him!  That would solve everything!  I bet even Schuester would be happy!”  
  
He stares at her.  “Absolutely not.  I’m not going to have babies with him.  I don’t even think fairies can even have babies with hu—HE’S NOT REAL.” He blushes, and Brittany is so glad Kurt is her husband because he’s super cute when he gets nervous like this.    
  
She shrugs.  “We’re fairies.  I’m pretty sure we can have babies with anything.  Fertility magic and all.  Didn’t Quinn have a baby with a hot spring?”  
  
“What? No. No.  Puck was the father, I think—never mind.  I just remembered I don’t care.” He sighs, his wings twitching fitfully.  “I’m going out.  Don’t—don’t tell anyone, please?”  
  
She nods, and mutters a spell under her breath that she uses all the time, for good luck and awesome sex.  She blows it at Kurt in the form of a kiss.  “Have fun!”  
  
“Thanks.” He blushes, opening the window and stepping on the windowsill.  “And Brittany?” He says, rubbing the kiss-spell on his cheek.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
He smiles at her.  “He’s sort of a unicorn.”  
  
She fist pumps the air.  “I knew it.”  
  


* * *

  
  
She gives him a full five-minute head start before she follows him.    
  
(What? She’s curious!  Kurt’s never really been interested in anybody before, so she kind of wants to meet him.)  
  
Only, Kurt’s a fast flier, and it’s dark outside, and Brittany’s never been the best at directions, and before too long she’s completely lost and the woods are scary at night.  
  
She sets her wings straight: she is Brittany S. Pierce, Queen of the Fairies, and she is afraid of nothing.  
  
In the dark woods of the forest, however, her wings and the stars are the only sources of light.  Creatures big and small seem to be drawn to her no matter what she does.  
  
She steadies her shoulders: a wolf howls in this distance, and much closer, an owl eyes her like she would make a nice meal.  
  
She flies.  
  


* * *

  
  
The owl catches her, eventually: it’s a clever animal, and a hungry one, too: a lot of plants aren’t growing like they should, so a lot of vermin are dying of starvation, which means there’s less to eat for the bigger prey, too.  They have to eat whatever they can catch, and fairy goes down just as well as anything else.  
  
Brittany’s just about to shift herself into a tiger and eat the owl herself when a blast of fire hits it, forcing the owl to drop her into the arms of something bigger.  
  
It’s a human.  
  
Brittany doesn’t like humans: they’re mean and scary and usually ugly.  The last time she encountered humans, she was much younger, and they—well, they hurt her pretty bad, held her wings down so she couldn’t fly away and touched her in places she’d rather they hadn’t.  
  
But this human cradles her softly in his hands, and doesn’t seem concerned withcatching her so much as making sure she’s safe.  “Are you okay?” The human says gently, offering her a finger to steady herself on.  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”  
  
“No, I’m okay.” Brittany says, stumbling to stand in the woman’s palm.  She pushes down the petals on her skirt.  “Did you—did you make that fire appear all by yourself?  With magic?”  
  
The girl shrugs like making fire shoot from her hands is entirely unimpressive.  “Just a little something my abuela showed me.”  
  
“I didn’t know humans could do magic!” Brittany’s wings flutter excitedly.  Well, that changes everything then, doesn’t it? If humans can do magic then they can’t all be evil then, can they?  
  
“Well, most humans can’t.  But a few of us can.”  The woman offers another finger to Brittany.  “My name is Santana.”  
  
Brittany kisses the end her index finger with a loud smooch.  “My name is Queen Brittany S. Pierce the I.  But you can call me Brittany.”   
  
Santana giggles, and Brittany thinks that, as far as humans go, she’s one of the loveliest she’s ever seen.  “Well then, you’re majesty.  What are you doing out in the woods?  Isn’t it dangerous for a little thing like yourself to be out here alone?”  
  
“I was looking for my Kurt.” Brittany tells her, flying lightly and resting on Santana’s shoulder.  A small flame appears in Santana’s hand, offering them light. The flame leaves her hand and follows them like a loyal puppy, and Brittany oohsat it.  She wonders if Santana can teacher her than trick.   “He went out to meet with his unicorn, but then I got lost and that owl got me.”  
  
Santana smiles.  “I’ve never seen a unicorn before in these woods.  But then again, I’ve never seen a fairy before either, so it might be possible.”  She points to a large oak tree and the two roads that split before it.  “There’s a farm right over the hill down there, and the man that owns it is mean.  He’s the only one that seems able to grow anything these days, but he’s won’t share, even though I’ve asked him for food ever so nicely.”  
  
Brittany frowns and crosses her legs.  “That’s not very nice of him.”  
  
“It’s not, is it?  Especially since my abuela kicked me out and I don’t have any other source of food.” She holds out her hand for Brittany to crawl into.  “What’s say you and I go relieve him of some of his excess crops and fill our bellies best we can, and then I can help you find your Kurt and his unicorn so you can go home?”  
  
Brittany flutters brightly.  “You’d do that for me?”  
  
Santana laughs.  “Of course I would.  But first, food.  It’s—” Her stomach growls loudly, and Brittany thinks of the feast she had at dinner, and feels sorry that she couldn’t have shared some of it with her.  “It’s been a while.”  
  
Brittany grins, then flies out of Santana’s palm.  “Then let’s go get you something to eat then, shall we?”

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	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kink warnings: self-lubricating asshole because lol magic, powerbottom!Kurt, naive!Blaine, blowjobs, handjobs, riding, yay! Also magic and fairies, but you should probably have expected that by now.

**—**

****  
  
Blaine’s bedroom window is open.  It’s not cold outside—not yet—but it’s cool enough, and in a few weeks it will be too cold to keep his window open without causing suspicion.  
  
But tonight it’s enough.  
  
He feels weird lying in bed fully dressed, but he’s not sure what else he should do.  He’s not sure what to expect: Kurt just asked to see him, but Kurt also kissed him, and licked the come off of his hand, so Kurt is always full of surprises.  He doesn’t—he doesn’t want to be presumptuous.    
  
So he’s wearing his nicest underwear and cleanest tunic and tightest pants, and hopes Kurt will like them.  
  
 _If_  Kurt comes.    
  
Gods, he hopes Kurt comes.  
  
He falls asleep at some point even though he tries his best not to, but he wakes up again to the feeling of someone running their hand through his hair.  
  
 _Kurt_.  
  
He opens his eyes to a blue-eyed smile and a hand gently caressing his curls.  “I didn’t mean to wake you.”   
  
“S’okay.” He yawns, stretches and sits up in his bed.  “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” He says sheepishly.  He places his hand on Kurt’s shoulder.  “Did you find the place okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” Kurt says, then looks back out Blaine’s bedroom window.  “Is—are all those plants out there yours?”  
  
He nods.  “My family’s.  We—we used to have a much smaller farm, but the King gave us more land recently because my dad’s an boot-licker.  We provide food for a whole bunch of people in the kingdom now.”  
  
Kurt’s face grows cold.  “My people can’t grow anything.  We—our crops keep failing, and we don’t know  _why_.   It’s worrying.”  
  
Blaine runs his hand down Kurt’s back, careful to avoid his wings.  “You can have some of ours then.” He yawns unintentionally.  “I mean, you fairies are usually really small, right?  I could probably give you a potato and it would feed your whole village for a week.”  
  
Kurt smiles thinly.  “We’d need more than just  _a_  potato, but yes, we don’t need much.  I—” He looks at Blaine softly and squeezes his knee.  “You’d do that?  For—for me?”  
  
“Of course.” He promises without really thinking about it.  “Don’t tell my dad, though.  He’d want you to pay for it, and I don’t—we have way more than we need and we make plenty of money, I think we can spare a couple of fruits and veggies, especially to feed an entire vill—”  
  
Kurt kisses him.  
  
It’s a hard kiss, tongue first and with a slight bit of a bite to it, exhilarating and addicting, the same way kissing Kurt always is, but with an extra little bit of something more to it, something fuzzy that Blaine can’t name.  Kurt fists his hair and pulls him closer, like he needs to keep kissing him in order to keep breathing.  It’s intoxicating, like the buzz he gets when he drinks too much wine, and all he can think about is  _more_.  
  
So Kurt gives him more.  
  
He pushes him back down on his bed, flat on his back with Kurt’s legs on either side of his hips.  His mouth sucks hard bruises into the line of Blaine’s jaw, and Blaine is breathless with want, incapable of words other than  _“Please.”_  
  
Kurt’s skin is glowing again, even brighter this time, and it makes him look even more ethereal and otherworldly than his wings do.   He is brighter than any star in the night sky, and Blaine is helpless to do anything other than orbit around him.  His body buzzes with need and want, desire pulsating through his skin, wanting to do nothing more than to worship the boy above him.  
  
So he does: he presses quick, feather light kisses against Kurt’s long, graceful neck, admiring the soft pale glow of his skin even as he enjoys the taste of him—like sweat and boy and fairydust.  He runs his hands along Kurt’s back, briefly caressing his wings until Kurt pulls away sharply and giggles.  
  
“Sorry!” He snorts, maybe unseemly but with Kurt it’s adorable. “That  _tickles_.”  
  
“Sorry.” Blaine blushes, and then, as carefully as he can, he touches his wings again.  “Is—is this okay?”  
  
Kurt nods.  “Yeah, I just—let me—” and he pulls his tunic his head.  
  
And Blaine is distracted, not by the sight of Kurt’s naked chest (though that’s beautiful, too) but because he gets to  _touch_  it, finally.  He takes one of Kurt’s rose-colored nipples into his mouth greedily, twirling his tongue around the tip.  The noises Kurt makes in response—  
  
He grabs a fist full of Blaine’s hair and pulls him up for a searing kisses, his wings beating erratically behind him.   He runs his other hand down Blaine’s side, lifting his shirt and running his fingers through the muscles on his side.  
  
He pulls away, tosses his shirt off and throws it across the room, not caring where it lands.  He gives Kurt a wolfish grin before tackling him back down on the bed.  
  
Kurt doesn’t like being underneath him very much, though, because his wings don’t have room to beat trapped between Blaine’s body and his bed.  The move so that they are lying together side by side, their legs and mouths entangled even as their arms trace the lines in each other’s skin.    
  
Blaine has to force himself away from Kurt’s bottom lip, because there’s something he really wants to do and—he wants to make sure it’s okay.  “I want to taste you.” He whispers, breathless against Kurt’s glowing skin.  He lets his fingers trail down Kurt’s stomach, tracing the light dusting of hair there, right above where his pants are still on.  “Is—is that okay?  I—”  
  
“Please.” Kurt whines, and smiles, pressing a wet kiss to the end of Blaine’s nose.  “How—I mean, I don’t want to be on my back if I can help it, my wings are too cramped, and that’s not the end of the world but I’d prefer it if we could avoid it.”  
  
“Maybe we could—you could sit on the edge of the bed, and I could get on my knees?”  Kurt flushes, and his pants tighten slightly, the sight of which makes Blaine’s cock harden almost painfully.  
  
“Okay.” Kurt agrees, kissing his lips one last time before he stands and takes his pants off.  He’s not wearing any undergarments underneath, and it makes Blaine whine painfully.  His cock’s already hard and red, pointing straight up on his stomach, and it makes his mouth water just to look at it.  His throat tightens as Kurt sits down on the edge bed, crossing his ankles coquettishly.    
  
“Um.  So, do you want to, uh, I mean—”  
  
Blaine doesn’t let him finish before he kneels, his head in Kurt’s lap, mouthing gently at the head of his cock.  
  
Kurt throws his head back and moans.   _Loudly_.  
  
“Shh!” Blaine giggles, letting go of one of Kurt’s balls with a light pop.  ”Do you, mmm, want to wake my family up?” He licks a long stripe along the length of his cock, and Kurt bite his lip to try and stop from crying out in pleasure.  
  
“S-sorry it j-just—- _OH_  do that again!” He groans, fisting the back of Blaine’s head and encouraging him to suck him deeper.  
  
Gods, Blaine loves this.  Loves how he taste, loves how he feels on his mouth.  Loves the  _smell_  of Kurt overpowering everything, loves the way Kurt tugs at his hair and the way his cock feels edging the back of his throat.  He could do this every day for the rest of his life and never get tired of it.  
  
He can taste the lightest bit of Kurt’s precome on his tongue, and it just urges him to suck him harder.  He tastes  _sweet_ , not like Blaine’s own come at all but just as good, possibly even better.  It’s addicting, Blaine just wants to  _drink_  him.  
  
Kurt comes with Blaine’s name on his lips, his come coating the back of Blaine’s throat and all over his tongue.  As he comes, his skin glows brighter than any star, so bright and that if they were outdoors, you could see the light off of Kurt’s skin for miles.  
  
He rests his head in Kurt’s lap, letting him run his hands through his hair comfortingly.  His cock is so hard it hurts, but he can’t bear to move at the moment, too busy savoring the taste and feel of Kurt around him.   
  
Kurt brushes a curl out of his forehead, the glow of his skin fading subtly.  ”Did you—?”  
  
He winces as his cock reminds him that no, no he hasn’t.  ”No.  I—”  
  
But Kurt just slides off the bed beside him, kissing him gently.  ”Let me?”  
  
“Y-yeah.”  
  
Kurt unbuttons his pants, and doesn’t slide them down all the way—just down enough to let Blaine’s cock escape, bouncing towards his stomach, precome already leaking out without being touched.  
  
Kurt licks a long strip along his palm before running his hand along the length of Blaine’s cock.  It feels so different, having Kurt touch him instead of doing this himself.  With Kurt every touch is a gentle tease, slowly coaxing him closer and closer to climax.    
  
“You’re so beautiful,” Kurt whispers, mouthing against his jaw as he pumps him through his orgasm.    
  
He comes as softly as an afterthought, without the bright hot glow of stars, but like a whisper quietly let loose through the night.  “I want you again.”  
  
His softened cock twitches painfully with interest.  “Already?” He breathes, boneless on the floor of his bedroom, his imagination whirling at the possibilities but his body haplessly unwilling to fulfil them.  He’s tired.  Fairies might be able to have sex all night long without needing a break in between, but humans need sleep.  
  
“Always.”  Kurt nods and kisses him.  He whispers archaic words against his skin, and magic blooms into the air, turning it pink and soft and a little fuzzy.  When Blaine opens his eyes again, he feels awake, like he just woke up from a long evening of good, deep sleep.  
  
Kurt’s grin is cheeky and warm.  “Feel better?”  
  
“What did you  _do?”_  He laughs.  He’s full of energy, feels like he could go running for miles and not be tired, when seconds ago he felt like he could fall asleep on the floor.    
  
Kurt just stands and stretches, his body long and languid and lovely, the sight of which just sends another peak of arousal through Blaine.   “Magic,” He says finally, offering a hand to help Blaine off the floor.  “Supposedly, when the Spirits made the fairies, they gave us magic so we could use it to guard, protect, and promote all other forms of life the Spirits made.”  
  
“Promote?”  
  
Kurt wiggles his fingers in the direction of Blaine’s manhood.  “Fertility.  Life.  Making sure there is a next generation to come once one generation dies out, that sort of thing.” He wraps his arms around Blaine’s waist, tugging him closer.  He kisses him sweetly, and Blaine savors the kiss, the way he savors everything about Kurt, wanting to memorize every last breath of him.  “I want to ride you.”  
  
Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt’s shoulders, pulling him into a gentle kiss.  “Okay.  How does that—I mean—what do I need to do—?  
  
Kurt kisses him deeper, pushing him back gently against the bed.  He smirks at him.  “Do you trust me?”  
  
He breathes.  “Yes.”  
  
He crawls on top of him, naked and warm, the most beautiful thing to have ever happened in Blaine’s life.  He lays his legs on either side of Blaine’s body, his cock lying flat against Blaine’s stomach.  He smirks.  “Then trust me.”  
  
 _I do.  Gods, I do._  
  
“I’ve never actually done this before,” Kurt confesses scandalously, leaning forward, peppering kisses across Blaine’s chest.  He groans, resting his hands on Kurt’s pale hips, enjoying the slight rhythm of them again his body.  Kurt licks light circles against his neck, causing him to throw his head back against the pillow, giving him more access.  “But,” he sucks in deeply, and, oh, that will leave a bruise in the morning.  “I’ve got great instincts.  And I have a plan.”  
  
“What do you need me to do?” Blaine breathes.  
  
Instead, Kurt takes his hand and leads it to his own ass, guiding Blaine’s fingers to the rim.  It’s wet, slick with some sort of substance Blaine doesn’t recognize by touch, and his surprise must show on his face because Kurt’s first response is to giggle.  
  
 _“Magic.”_  He laughs, like it should be obvious, and Blaine wants to pout at him.  His ass doesn’t magically lubricate itself—if it did he’d of had a lot more fun exploring it on his own, thanks—but then Kurt rolls his hips again, forcing Blaine’s finger onto himself.  It’s just his finger and it’s not even really inside of Kurt yet, just barely teasing the edge of him, but it already feels  _good_ , and it just makes him want more.  
  
“Can I—?”  
  
 _“Please.”_   Kurt moans, and Blaine wishes he had some way he could hear that noise over and over again, because he could never get sick of it.  
  
He slips the rest of his index finger inside of him, stretching him open gently.  He slips his finger in and out steadily, finding a rhythm and coaxing Kurt to pleasure.  
  
Eventually, his lover tugs at his hair.  ”Stop  _teasing_  me.” He groans, thrusting himself down on Blaine’s finger.   
  
“Of course.” Blaine promises, slipping another finger into Kurt, enjoying how his hand slickens.  He thrusts his fingers in and out of Kurt, stretching him open.  His cock throbs, wanting to be inside of him as much possible, but he also doesn’t want to hurt him, doesn’t know how he’s supposed to fit inside of him.  
  
He slides a third finger into Kurt, and the angle changes or something, because Kurt howls in pleasure.  ”There!   _Right_  there!”  
  
He hits the spot again, and Kurt nearly sobs in relief.  ”Okay.  Okay.  I—I’m ready.”  
  
“Okay.  Um, what do I need to—?”  
  
“Let me.”  
  
He lowers himself slowly onto Blaine’s cock, inch by agonizing inch, until Blaine is surrounded by him, engulfed by the warm heat of Kurt.  His first instinct is to _move_ , to slam into him over and over and over again until he comes, his body boneless and spent, but he doesn’t want to hurt him: he’s already so insanely tight, the idea of breathing too hard seems like it would be too much.  
  
Still, not moving is sort of killing him right now.  “C-can I—?”  
  
Kurt winces, but nods.  “G-go slowly.”  
  
He rocks his hips softly, easing out of Kurt and then gently pushing himself back in.  It’s a slow rhythm at first, just the steady movement of their hips pressed against each other’s, but it doesn’t stay slow for long.  
  
Kurt’s the one who escalates things—Kurt’s  _always_  the one who escalates things—by slamming Blaine down and moving harder, faster.  He’s fucking himself on Blaine’s cock, riding him hard like—like a  _horse_ , almost, and the image would make him laugh if it wasn’t so  _hot_.  
  
He has to hold on to Kurt’s hips to keep him steady, his fingernails digging bruises into Kurt’s pale skin.  Kurt is breathless and noisy, repeating his name like a mantra as he thrusts his cock into his hand.  “Blaine.  Blaine.   _Blaine!”_  
  
He comes not long after that, his senses too overwhelmed to last any longer.  Kurt doesn’t seem disappointed, though, sliding off of him with a wince and finishing himself with a few small strokes.  
  
Gods, he’s beautiful when he comes.  
  
He wipes his hands on Blaine’s sheets, looking up at him with a blushing face and a small smile.  “That was—-”  
  
“Good?” Blaine asks hopefully.  
  
“Messy.” Kurt laughs, embarrassed but happy.  “But good, yes.”   He frowns as he sits up, looking at the come covering his stomach.  “Um.  Do you have anything I could use to clean up with?”  
  
Blaine nods.  “Yeah, let me go get some cloth and some water.”  He rushes out of the room, not really caring that he’s naked and anyone could see him right now—and grabs what he needs, hurrying back to Kurt.  
  
He looks away as Kurt cleans himself up, the scene too intimate to watch despite all they’ve shared together.   He spends his time not watching Kurt to pick up his room a little bit—to put his messy bedding in a pile, to put on clean clothing—anything to not watch Kurt groom himself, though a part of him wishes he could.  
  
“You can turn around now.” Kurt tells him, and—oh, he’s dressed, too, less finely than before but still in clothes much better than what Blaine owns, finely spun silks and natural threads.  
  
Kurt’s wings flutter softly as he kisses him gently on the lips.  “Thank you.”  
  
“You’re welcome.” He says back to him, unsure of what, exactly, Kurt is thanking him for.  He rests his hands on Kurt’s waist, holding him close to him, savoring his touch and scent.  “When—when will I see you again?”  
  
Kurt’s face softens as he runs a hand along Blaine’s jaw.   “You want to see me again?”  
  
He looks so surprised that Blaine cannot help but laugh.  “I always want to see you.”  
  
“I always want to see you, too.” Kurt’s eyes light up happily.  He bounces a bit on his toes, unable to keep the smile off of his face.  “Can I see you tomorrow? In the afternoon, maybe, at the spring?”  
  
Blaine kisses him.  “It’s a date.”  
  
—


End file.
